


New Year

by JustAFlick



Series: The New Years [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 10:36:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11102805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAFlick/pseuds/JustAFlick
Summary: Post-ANH, Han contemplates his feelings for a certain Princess as they celebrate the beginning a new era and mourn the passing of an old one.  Part II of The New Years story cycle.





	New Year

“To the Rebellion!”

Han grinned up at Luke Skywalker as the young pilot sloshed a healthy portion of his drink down upon his audience. Most of the pilots laughed except a small Sullastan who seemed to have taken most of the hit.

“To the Rebellion!” they chorused back, and Han had a bit of deja vu. It was more than a year since his last New Years (new timeline and all that), but the memory of it was still fresh. He shook his head as he looked around the ragtag group of seasoned officers and fresh-faced recruits. They couldn’t be more different than the Coruscanti bourgeoisie he’d celebrated with last year, but Han couldn’t have liked them more.

That warm fuzzy feeling probably had something to do with the Corellian whiskey he’d managed to smuggle onto base for the occasion. If it hadn’t been for the last minute ‘mission’ he and Chewie had taken, this party would have been oiled with nothing but fuel-tank gin. That and the few bottles of ale left by the monks that once inhabited this old mountain-top temple. 

Han didn’t know when he’d gotten so generous. Usually his whiskey was a secret he kept closely guarded. But, as the pilots broke out into another rendition of “All Hail the Emperor” (with the key words switched out for dirty epithets), Han wasn’t sorry he’d splurged. 

There was only one thing Han Solo was sorry about and it had nothing to do with whiskey, or pilots or strange bouts of generosity. There was one person missing from these festivities and that one absence niggled at his conscience.

Leia Organa hadn’t shown up, and he was pretty sure it was his fault.

Oh, the Princess was an adult (barely) and he didn’t care about her damn feelings (mostly), but as the hours ticked by and midnight grew closer, he couldn’t help but regret his part in keeping her away. 

“Fancy a spin?”

The tall redhead ran a hand down Han’s arm. She wasn’t a rebel, but rather a visiting dignitary from Chandrila. And while the night they’d spent in her quarters had been quite entertaining, it had lead to the problem at hand. 

“Nah,” he said, smoothing his refusal with half a smile. “Don’t want to see me out there after the third glass.”

The woman raised an eyebrow and tapped her fingernail on his glass. 

“You’ll want to be careful with that. I’ve seen creatures twice your size buckle under the weight of Corellian whiskey.”

Han flashed her a full-on grin, “That’s how you know it’s the good stuff.”

A gentle scoff caught his attention, and Han looked over his shoulder just in time to see a flash of white and a twist of brown braids.

Without another word, Han turned on his heel and took up the pursuit. Leia was fast, as always, but she was impeded by sloppy well-wishes from the drunken pilots all around her. Han couldn’t help but smirk at the sight of her little body being swallowed up by the gushing hugs of pilots who were usually too intimidated to talk to her.

“Princess,” he said, as she stumbled out of another clumsy embrace and straight into his path.

“Captain,” she hissed, glaring up at him through her lashes.

Han felt a bubble of happiness so intense, it almost shocked him. This thing happened when he was around Leia. This feeling of utter presence, of life becoming sharper and brighter and more colorful. He’d been missing it all night, for some reason craving that presence as they rung in the New Year.

“Happy New Year,” he mumbled, still marveling at the strength of his internal reaction.

Leia clenched her jaw, but nodded. She looked down at the ground and seemed to gather herself for a moment before making to turn away. Han’s quick draw reflexes kicked in, and he had her arm before she could move an inch.

“Where’d you think your going?”

Leia stiffened, her voice sharp.

“Back to my quarters.”

Han swallowed as his thoughts followed that sentence. He’d spent an embarrassing amount of hours imagining those quarters. Well, if he was honest, his focus tended to wander toward the activities one might take up in said quarters…

“You can’t leave now. It’s almost midnight. It’s the dawn of a new era.”

Leia rolled her eyes. 

“And it will happen whether I’m here or not.”

“Not sure about that,” Han leaned closer, tossing the words into her ear, “We may need a royal decree.”

He felt the little shiver that went through her as he said it, but when he pulled back her face was stony.

“Will you kindly let go of my arm?”

Han squinted down at her, unsure whether to comply with this command. Sure, she had a right to her arm and her bed and her damn icy pride. But, it was a holiday. It was a party. Besides…

“Why’d you come then?”

Leia looked confused for a moment, until her features settled into a resigned mask.

“It doesn't matter.”

Han loosened his grip but kept his hand on her, moving it ever so slightly in a gentle, almost coaxing way.

“Sure it does.”

Leia’s brown eyes sought his out (finally) and he felt the same surge of energy, the want unclouded by daylight doubts or sober scorn.

“I came to apologize,” the words were sincere but edged with a lilt of sarcasm.

It still hit Han hard. Leia Organa, Princess and last Heir of Alderaan, did not apologize lightly. And he’d almost missed the event.

Without thinking, he slid his hand down her arm and grasped the hand that waited there. He ignored Leia’s whispered protests as he wound the though the rest of the crowd intent on an old wood door. With a push, they stumbled out onto a terrace overlooking the arid canyons that surrounded their mountain perch.

The moon was bright and the air was cool as they left the light and the music behind them. Han wasn’t entirely sure he’d ever been this alone with Leia. The thought made his heart do strange things in his chest. (He’d have to think about that later.)

“Han,” Leia said, in a full-on scathing voice, finally pulling her hand fiercely away. He did take note of the fact that she’d only done so after he’d gotten her out here. Also, his name. He always noticed when she said his name.

“Yes, Leia?”

That seemed to give her pause, at least enough of one for him to slip in.

“You don’t have to apologize.”

Leia blinked at him, resplendent in the moonlight.

“Well, in case you failed to notice, I wasn’t. I was trying to leave.”

“Yeah,” Han frowned at the memory of her receding back, “What was with that?”

Leia let out a little huff which showed a pale white in the chilly air. 

“You obviously hadn't learned your lesson,” she chided, “I saw you talking with—“

“What, so I’m not even allowed to talk now?”

“Well, with you, talking always seems to lead to—“

“Oh yeah, where’s it lead, Princess?”

They were close now, perilously close. He could feel the little puffs of her breath tickling his neck, his chin, his lips.

“Back to where it started.” Leia said, in a tone so proper it almost made him laugh. 

Where this particular argument had started was a bed tucked away into the upper part of the temple, where Han had gotten very familiar with a very public figure. 

As her words sunk in along with the implications that accompanied them, Leia’s face lost some of its certainty. For a moment, she looked like the girl was she was. Twenty and so…

“I’m not gonna say I’m sorry for that,” Han said, in a tone much softer than he was used to.

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Leia’s jaw hardened, but her eyes were wide.

“But,” he took a breath, aware in a painful way how close they were, “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Leia started back, “You—I don’t care what you do—“

Han shook his head. “No, I mean, what I said about…”

His words trailed off as their minds synced. Somewhere a bird called, it’s cry echoing through the night. The moon was so bright, Han could see every thought in the Princess’s eyes. 

“I shouldn’t have gotten so angry with you,” she said, matching his quiet tone. 

Han shrugged, almost adding a saucy comment on how much he liked it when she got mad. But, he sensed, with rare acumen, that this wasn’t the moment.

Leia breathed in the night, holding his gaze, and for a moment he wanted to reach for her hand again. But without the pretext of dragging her this way or that, the gesture would mean something. And he wasn’t sure he was ready for that just yet. (Or ever.)

“This isn’t an easy day for me.”

Han nodded solemnly, thinking of the Death Star, and the rescue and the way the chunks of her home had banged and skittered against the hull of his ship.

As if she could read his mind, she shook her head, and muttered, “No, not that.” Then she closed her eyes as if in pain. “I mean, of course that. But not only that.”

Han couldn’t look away from her as she searched so earnestly inside of herself. Their moments were never this slow, never this thoughtful. Theirs were quicker and louder and more intense.

“I was relieved,” she started, turning away from him toward the stone balustrade. “I was relieved when we didn’t celebrate the old New Years.” 

Han followed, but slowly, not wanting the break the spell.

“My father always insisted we spend New Years together. Just the three of us,” a soft smile graced her lips as she remembered, “Every other holiday was a royal affair, celebrated with hundreds, sometimes thousands, of citizens. Parades, balls, banquets…but on that night we left Alderaanians to their own hearths.”

They were side by side now, looking out into the gilded night. The familiarity tugged at Han again as he listened to the melodic cadence of her low voice.

“On Alderaan, New Years isn’t a revelry,” she swallowed, “wasn’t…It was a time for reflection. We would remember the year behind us. One by one, in the astronomy tower - which was my father’s favorite room - we would tell stories of the year before.” 

Her face was so warm and alive now that Han could do nothing but gaze, arrested, while she continued, “First me, then Mama, then Papa, then back again. We would tell funny stories, sad stories, share triumphs and embarrassments. And there could be no judgement, no regret. What was done was done.” 

Leia looked down at this, a wisp of hair falling into her eye. Han didn’t stop himself this time when he felt the impulse to reach out and tuck it back. He almost expected to find a tear track glistening down her silver tinged cheek, but her face was dry, though her gaze was bleak.

“I haven’t told any stories in a long time,” she murmured.

“Guess you’re doing that now, huh?” His hand lingered on her shoulder. They both chose to ignore it.

She nodded, taking another breath as if to continue. Then she paused, eyes narrowing, just for a moment, before clearing again.

“I have to tell a bad one,” her lips quirked just a bit, “Is it even possible that you won't judge me?”

In that moment, Han hated everything that had risen up between them to make her say that. He hated the little fires he stoked, he hated the walls he compulsively threw up, he hated her unbreakable composure. But, the hand was still there, and it stroked her just a bit, as if sensing its master’s need to connect. He gently squeezed the back of her neck and felt her relax into his grip.

Without another hesitation she began, “I wished for this.”

He frowned, hand stilling on her neck. Did the Princess just admit to--? “Come again?” 

She blushed bright enough that the moonbeams caught it. “I wished for what happened to Alderaan.”

That threw some water on his fire. Han shook his head, certain this little woman was going to drive him mad. But as her words settled into his addled brain, he frowned again.

“I know you, Princess.” She opened her mouth to argue, and he shook his head turning her to face him so he could say it to her straight. “Whether you like it or not, I do. The good, the bad, and the…irritating,” he added a smirk to take out any sting. “You would never wish for that.”

Finally, the tears made a showing, and Han wished he hadn’t gone looking for them.

“I didn’t mean to, but I did all the same,” the words came out in a torrent now, “After we told all our stories, we would turn to the future. Each of us would share our hopes and dreams for the New Year. Everyone on Alderaan knew the power of a wish made at midnight…”

Han watched her lips move as if in a dream. Coral pink, the top a little too thin, the bottom a little too full. Her skin glowed alabaster, and her brown eyes swam towards him with consuming depth.

“Last year,” her voice was hoarse, “I wished for something to change. I wished that something would push forward the rebellion, make our dreams a reality…”

“And it did,” Han finished for her. 

She nodded, continuing to stare up at him. Everything had changed for her, for him, for the entire galaxy, the day the Death Star had annihilated Alderaan. Han couldn’t help the shiver that ran through him. He didn’t know if it had more to do with the silvery feeling of fate or the gnawing question forming in his stomach.

Leia sighed, a relieved if painful sound, “I got what I wished for.”

“What did your father say?” Han asked, already knowing the answer but needing it anyway.

She blinked at him, face still open, eyes confused.

“When you said it last New Years?” 

“Oh,” she turned away, finally breaking the intensity of their stare and allowing Han to take a breath. “I didn’t say it to him.”

“Weren’t you—?”

She shook her head, stretching her hands across the stone ledge in front of her. “My father was sick that year, mother was tending to him. I would have been there, but…” she glanced at him, “I had business elsewhere that night.”

The shutters fell on her expression, and Han didn’t quite know why he was relieved at that.

“What do you think he would tell you now?” he said, matching her posture and turning toward the moon-bright night.

“He would say, ‘Forgive yourself, Lelila. No regrets,’” the warmth in her voice as unmistakable.

“Sounds like a smart guy,” Han offered.

“He was good,” Leia said softly.

“Doesn’t surprise me. Look what he made.”

Leia didn’t look at him, but he could sense something uncoil within her at his words. It struck Han then, as it hadn’t before, that he had some kind of power of Leia Organa. Of course, if that was true, it was only a shadow of the power she had over him.

“If it helps at all, I don’t believe in wishes. Shit happens…” 

“…and then we die?”

Han smiled, “Well, a lot of other stuff can happen too. Good stuff. But yeah, then we die.”

Leia chuckled, a relaxed sound completely at odds with the tension he’d felt from her all day, “Maybe you were the right person to talk to.”

“I usually am.”

“There you are…” the silky voice sliced into the shared smile that was warming him from the inside out. Han turned to see the redheaded spectre silhouetted by the light from the party.

Leia took a step back and turned to greet her, all politician once more.

“Senator Berrida,” she said formally. 

“Princess,” the woman said warmly. “It’s almost midnight. I imagine you’d like to be with your troops.”

Leia glanced back at Han, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure what she’d do. He wanted to keep her here, wanted to do a lot of things, but the same old hesitation held him back. Whatever question lingered between them withered under the steady gaze of their audience.

“Yes,” Leia said at last, “I wouldn’t want to miss the dawn of a new era.”

Han heard his words repeated back to him and couldn’t help a little smile. With a formal nod, Leia turned toward the light and the music and her normal life. Han felt his world get a little less colorful as he watched her slip through the door, eclipsed by the redhead's approach.

She held out a glass of something bubbly. Though Han missed the whiskey, he took a sip anyway, staring back out into the night.

“Aiming a bit high, aren’t we?”

Han looked over at her to see her cat-like green eyes measuring him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Leia Organa may be in exile, but she is a powerful piece in a high stakes game. I wouldn’t get involved with her if you value your life.”

“That a threat?”

Han hadn’t taken Leia’s words seriously earlier that day. He didn’t think the Senator was a double agent. Just a horny broad temporarily cut loose from her duties. But, the ominous tinge to her words, had him questioning his assumption.

She laughed softly into the night. “No,” she said, “it’s a warning. From one friend to another. Besides,” she trailed a fingernail down his chest, sending a spiral of predictable heat to his core. “You’re more the turn and burn type. Good for a night or two then off on your merry way. Leia is a forever kind of gal.”

“Ten!” 

As Han heard the rumble of voices counting down, he gulped down the drink. He never let people tell him who or what he was. But, there was a definite ring of truth in what the woman had just said.

“Eight, Seven…”

“Good thing you know me so well,” he replied with more than a hint of sarcasm.

The woman moved her hand lower, caressing him through his pants.

“Five, Four…”

“I’m a great reader of people,” she purred leaning forward to tug an earlobe into her mouth. Han groaned, giving into the rush of desire that sprang from her mouth and her hand. 

“Two, one…”

It hit him as she tugged his chin down to meet her lips. Leia. It had been Leia. How could he possibly have not placed that little form, those big brown eyes, that quick little mouth? He had kissed her a year and three months ago, and not even known he was doing it.

Or what lucky bastard he was.

He pulled away from the redhead as a thundering cheer went up from inside the party. 

“Why do women keep telling me that?”

With that, he turned on his heel and jogged back to the party. He wasn’t sure what he was gonna do. But, he knew it involved Leia, and kissing, and possibly forever.

What he saw stopped him dead in his tracks. Luke held Leia in his arms whispering to her while she laughed, face bright as a sun beam and warm as a summer’s day. He saw it all laid out in technicolor with the height and scope only Leia could lend it. The numbers counting down, the meeting of blue eyes with chocolate brown, Luke pulling her in to clutch her close.

Right. 

He may not be the forever type, but Luke was. Luke and Leia made so much damn sense it nearly sobered him up. 

“See what I mean, Captain?” a voice whispered in his ear.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah.”

And without another thought, Han grabbed the Senator's hand and followed her out. So much for wishes. Some things never changed.  



End file.
